Bravery
by itimeditperfectly
Summary: The one time Watson's fear was stronger than his bravery.


**Author's Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for all the mistakes, the repetition of words and my clumsy writing style. I honestly tried my best.  
**

* * *

 _Watson was a brave man._

He has served in the war and bravely faced any enemy, illness and injury he or others had to cope with. He never ran away. He was scared, of course, but he was always able to remind himself that it's better to face the danger like a man instead of running cowardly away like a child.  
He always has been brave.

But _this_ was different.

There were no enemies to defeat, no illness to heal and no injury to treat. There was no other danger than himself and that was the worst and horrifying thing one could imagine.

There were days full with terror, days in which he feared he wouldn't be able to resist it any longer, days in which he almost wanted Holmes to deduce his little secret so that he wouldn't have to hide it anymore. But soon the realization dawned on him, that this would be the end of their friendship. Watson was by no means egoistic. He loved to give, he would be happy to help anyone and anytime - he was a doctor after all - but if there was one thing he'd never wanted to lose and keep for himself, it was Holmes.

 _Watson was a scared man._

Some days were easy to handle. Especially those that were filled with a case. On others days it more complicated to defeat his demon but still manageable. He'd just leave his checkbook at home, take a walk, read a book in the park, anything to not think of it again or to get close to his capital.

The nights were what drove him insane. He couldn't easily go out. Not only because inappropriate time and darkness but also because Holmes might notice his absence during such unusual hours, which would raise unpleasant questions.  
Eventually, he thought about calming himself down in a medical way. Some sleeping pills should do. Or even harder medication. But then he thought of Holmes again and how fast this could end up in an addiction. It always hurts Watson to see Holmes injecting his seven-percent solution. He doesn't want to hurt Holmes the same way he hurts him.  
Even though the longer these nights lasted, the louder the voice in his head became, that kept telling him how Holmes doesn't really care about him and his well-being anyway.  
The first few nights he was fighting back, telling himself that Holmes does indeed care even though he's not good at showing it.  
But after a week or two he gets tired of fighting and gives in. He admit that he is of no use whatsoever for Holmes and that his friend would probably better with out him. He admits that Holmes doesn't care about him in any way and is fine with that.

It hurt though.

However, this was no excuse to give in. If it wasnt for Holmes then for himself. He just couldn't afford to lose his money again. He had rent to pay and he wouldn't be able to look Holmes directly in the eye and tell him that he's not able to.  
But who said that he _had_ to lose.

 _Watson is a terrified man._

As he steps out into the cold, he keeps telling himself that he deserves it. They just finished a complicated case successfully, he had coped with Holmes terrible mood for weeks and most importantly: he hasn't given in to his _habit_ since almost four months so he deserves a reward.

He keeps telling that to himself as he walks down the street and takes the nearest cab. He is telling it to himself as he counts the money he put into his poket again to make sure it's not too much and that he could still pay the rent. He's telling it to himself as he steps into the warm and bright light of the club and hears the welcoming sound of laughter and gets embraced by the fine smell of alcohol. He keeps telling it to himself as he sits down at the nearest gambling table.  
And as he sets his first bet, he knows it isn't true.

 _Watson is an endearing_ _man._

Watson is glad that he didn't tell Holmes where he was going. He thought a lot about a good excuse, maybe the visit of a long lost friend who just returned to London (which would at least explain why he smelled like alcohol) but Holmes would have deduced that this is not true.  
Even without his abilities he would have been able to; Watson is a terrible liar.  
If he can't even fool himself how was he supposed to trick others.

 _Watson is a decent man._

As he enters the cold and dark rooms of his home, he shivers. Everything hurts.  
He came back with empty pockets and an empty heart.

When he tried to climb the stairs as quietly as he can manage, he realizes that he drank more alcohol than he cared to admit.  
He passes the rooms he shares with Holmes and his heart stops. But thankfully, everything is quiet. His own breath and pluse sound unnaturally loud in his ears and for a heartbeat he is afraid to wake anyone up that way. _Which is stupid._ He gets angry at himself for having such a stupid thought. Holmes was right about him in the end.

 _Watson is an awful man._

He finally reaches his room, glad that seemingly nobody noticed his return (or didn't they notice his adsence in the first place?). Slowly, he takes of his clothes, tired and exhausted, and almost laughs out loud when he sees himself in the small mirror his room provides.  
Red cheeks, big dark circles around eyes, a body standing like a scared dog that just got hit by his owner. Two big and ugly scars on a shoulder and leg, where once perfect skin has been.  
His friends, if he would have some, would say that he's only a shadow of his former self.  
Watson however knows that this is not true. He was just too scared to admit it all along.  
Now, standing here in the dark, where everything was only a grey and vague impression, he could suddenly see it clearly infront of him: This weak and awful creature in the mirror is his true self.

 _Watson is a horrible man._

He keeps going out like that the next few months even though the gaps between his nights get shorter and shorter in contrary to the amount of money he takes with him, which gets larger and larger.

But Watson is doing fine. Sometimes he even wins some of the money back, Holmes hasn't caught him yet and he was still able to pay his rent on time. Yes, he had to sell some of his medical books the last two months but that was an exception. And he he will make sure, that this will never happen again. This month will be better.

 _Watson is an unlucky man._

He lost it.  
He was sure that he could handle bringing his entire checkbook, that he could stop once things weren't going good enough. That he was a man, someone who has everything undercontrol. Someone who doesn't constantly need help. Someone who's able to take care of himself.  
 _But he failed._

His heart is racing as he knocks on Holmes door in the next morning.  
He could have waited for Holmes to come out but Watson was egoistic. He wanted to be done with it. With everything. He didn't sleep all night, thinking of ways how he could gather enough money for the rent. But there was none. And didn't want to wait longer to tell him.  
Holmes deserves to know.  
He can't wait until the end of the month to tell him, he can't even wait five minutes. Holmes deserves better. And he for sure doesn't want to live in the same house as such an awful and egoistic failure as Watson. So he makes sure, to lift that burden of Holmes.

"Watson?"

The doctor pulls the door open. He looks misarble, not that he ever looked good to begin with. When he noticed Holmes's worried glance, he quickly looks down.  
For a moment everything feels numb, he doesn't breathe, his heart stops, he feels like he is not existing at all. The clock however was still ticking as if to show him, that time is still passing by but Watson doesn't even notice it.  
What he does notice though, is how Holmes, still sitting on his chair, patiently waits for Watson to speak up and for _that_ he is grateful.  
He's presses his teeth together, takes a deep breath and gathers his last strength as he shifts his weight from one feet to the other.  
And then he finally says it.

"I lost the rent."

"Watson-"

"I'm so sorry!", his vision gets blurry, his voice sounds hoarse, almost unreal.  
"I went … I was gambling… I never meant to… I'm so sorry."

Holmes raises to his feet, reaching out for the man infront of him. This unexpected movement makes Watson pull back, which he curses himself for at the same moment.  
If Holmes wishes to punch Watson it was his absolute right to do so. Who was Watson to demand to get out of the situation unharmed? Watson closes his eyes cowardly yet is able to stand still, waiting for a hit and kick. He would be able to endure it; to get kicked, to get beaten and to get insulted.  
But he wasn't able to keep his eyes open or to even look directly at Holmes. He was too afraid of what he'd see.

But when nothing happend, he slowly opend his eyes, first looking to the floor but then at Holmes.

He never expected Holmes to scream at him. Watson expected Holmes to throw him out in a rather cold and distant yet polite way, a treatment he wouldn't deserve, of course.  
Maybe he even expected Holmes to say how he didn't had faith in him to be reliable in the first place. That he isn't surpised the slightest. Eventually, he expected Holmes to laughed about him. Him and his incapacity . The same incapacity that he showed in Afghanistan, when he was unable to save the soldiers he should have taken care of.

What he _didn't_ expect, however, was the soft and kind smile on Holmes lips and and the sad glance.

Neither did he expect Holmes to put Watson's right hand in both of his. And he certainly didn't expect Holmes to say the words he has never heard him say before.

"I'm sorry, my dear friend.", he carefully squeezes his hand. "I'm so sorry."

This was worse than anything he expected.

"Holmes, I don't-", he has stuttering. "I don't think I quite understand. There is no need to be sorry. _I_ am sorry for _my_ foolish behaviour and apologize deeply for failing you and getting us into this situation. There is no excuse for what I have done, I will most certainly move out as soon as possible. I will explain the situation to Mrs. Hudson. She'll understand that the fault is all mine. Please, believe me, I am so, so sorry, I-"

"I am the one to blame, my dear Watson.", he lets go of his hand. Now looking angry and disappointed, finally emotions that Watson _did_ expect even though they came with words which he didn't quite understood. "I made a mistake."

Holmes lets himself fall into the chair again with a deep and frustrated sigh.  
"I made a mistake, I can assure you, that this will never happen again."

Watson, who knows he is a fool and yet is still suprised that he can't follow his friend, is standing awkwardly and silently in the room. Not knowing how to behave or what to do, only starring at Holmes, hoping for further information. But it doesn't come.

"Holmes,", Watson says after the silence became to heavy to bare. "Your only mistake is, that you didn't scream at me and haven't thrown me out yet."

"Give me your checkbook!", Holmes looks at him in a sudden realization.  
Watson, not sure if Holmes thinks this all was just a joke which would explain his weird behaviour, hands it to him without any hesitation, yet dares to open his mouth.

"Holmes, I really have nothing left…", his voice saddens again.

"From now on,", Holmes tone is so authoritative that Watson doesn't dare to speak up. "I will keep your checkbook. If you need your money for anything - anything that is _not_ related to a certain club and gambling tables - you ask me, and I'll hand it to you."

"I'm afraid, I can't do this."

"Pardon?"

"I don't deserve your forgiveness, not after all I have done, Holmes. I appreciate it, I really do, but I can't stand to know that I have failed you, I-"

"Watson, I am the one to blame. Please don't think I was too stupid to see that you'd sneak out at night. Please don't think I was too oblivious to not know what you were doing."

A terrible thought comes to Watson's mind and he hurries to say: "I never thought, you wouldn't be able to figure it out, Holmes! I never meant to insult your intellect! It's just… I thought you wouldn't …"

"Care? Oh, dear friend, I sure seemed distant and like I don't care about your issue but only because it was non of my business and I didn't see that it was as much of a problem. But now I do. I apologize for letting you down in the first place."

Watson wants to scream, he wanted to tell Holmes that he did nothing wrong, that he is the one that fucked up, that made all these mistakes. That he should have told him earlier, that he shouldn't even have moved in with Holmes.

"I make sure that this will never happend again, Watson, I promise."

He keeps telling himself, that he doesn't deserve a friend, he keeps telling himself ,that he doesn't deserve kind words. That he doesn't deserve anything. He keeps telling that himself, as Holmes gets up from his chair again. He keeps telling that himself, as Holmes walks up to him. And as Holmes wraps his arms around him, for a short moment, he knows it isn't true.

 _Watson is a lucky man._


End file.
